Someone Like You
by Stained Blue
Summary: I hate to turn up out of the blue, uninvited. But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it. I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded, that for me, it isn't over


Title: Someone Like You  
Pairing: Jack Sparrow/James Norrington  
Note: I really don't own, and it's been a loooong while since I've wrote this pairing. Role reversal, and told from Jack's POV

The storm raged around them, tossing the 42 gun ship about like a child's toy. He clung hard to the wheel, trying to keep the ship on course. His Majesty's royal navy had already lost two ships the preceding month to hurricanes and pirates, and he would be damned if another was lost because of this little storm. He watched his men scramble, slip, fall, and slide their way across deck, grasping at the rigging and anything tied down.

Another wave crashed over the side, threatening to wash crewmen overboard.

"Commodore! We need to get to shore!" His first mate Gibbs yelled in his ear, the older man clutched at his shoulder. He scowled, feeling the rain and wind whip at him; the storm had already stolen his hat. "Find me some damned land then!" He screamed back, fighting with the wheel.

Then he heard the nearly lost scream from the crow's nest. He peered up through the dark sky and pouring rain to see Marty barely peering over the side. "Sir! Land ho!" His heart gave an anxious flutter at the thought of a safe port to wait out the storm. "Marty! Directions!" The small man scrambled down the ratlines, holding fast at the base of the mast. "About 10 leagues off the starboard bow!" He yanked hard on the wheel, felt the ship shudder under his feet. "C'mon old girl," he mumbled to the ship, praying that its bow would slip through the crest of any passing wave.

He watched his crew hunker down as the ship turned slowly, catching a passing wave and struggling through toward their salvation. The wind caught the sails and pushed them forward as he struggled to keep the ship from capsizing.

The ship's hull bumped hard into dock, knocking a few of the other ships awry. "Drop the anchor!" He heard the splash of the anchor being thrown overboard and watched as two crewmen slid the gangplank over to the dock and braved the storm to tie the ship down. In one hurried motion, the crew rushed off the ship. He followed at a much slower pace, inspecting the ship as he went.

He had never been fond of the feeling of dry land beneath his feet, always preferring the easy motion of the sea, but tonight he felt better about being on land. He followed the crew through the downpour and into the noisy pub, his ears being assaulted with loud voices and the sounds of dishes being broken.

Carefully, they wound their way through the crowded tables and to the back, settling into the shadows. He thumped his boots up on the table and leant back, surveying the unwashed bodies. A bar wench sidled up, and leered at him. He rubbed a calloused palm over his shorn dark hair, feeling the rain flick off under his touch, and smiled back.

"Now, what can I get fer ye?" He smiled at her and pulled out a silver coin, "Just a glass of brandy please." The coin disappeared into her ample bosom, and he watched her swagger away. Once she was out of his line of sight, he resumed scanning the pub.

Across the room, he caught sight of a familiar face. Those prim lips were twisted upward, the long dark hair was pulled back with a silk ribbon, and he was still certain that the man's skin was far too fair for the Caribbean sun. Captain James Norrington. Though he had to admit, Norrington was one of the better pirates. As far as he was aware, the man never killed unless it was absolutely necessary and had proven himself to be quite the gentleman on the occasions in which they'd met.

The bar wench broke his view of Norrington, her wide hips hiding the well-dressed and handsome pirate from his view. She bent down, providing him with a clear view of her mostly exposed ample bosom. "Here ya are." She placed the snifter of brandy before him, lingering, as though she expected him to make her some lewd offer she couldn't refuse. Once she ambled out of his way, his eyes immediately returned to where he had last seen the pirate, only to find the spot empty.

He dropped his feet back to the floor and sat up, suddenly more alert as he scanned for the pirate. After all, they had been chasing the damned fiend for the past few weeks. He would be damned if he lost the man now. Slowly, he got to his feet and stared hard through the smoky interior of the pub.

"Well, I never expected to see you here," the smooth, cultured voice coiled in his ear, and he blinked slowly. He felt something hard prod him in the lower back, heard the soft click of a gun's hammer, "Sit down Commodore. Let's have a drink." Slowly, he sat back down, his fingers immediately curling around the snifter. He glanced over as Norrington sat down gracefully beside him, returning the pistol to the deep blue sash wound about his waist. He watched the man lift two fingers in a barely noticed motion, but still it called a bar wench to their table.

Norrington smiled brightly, "Another brandy please, for me and my friend." He handed the bar wench a gold coin, which was taken quickly as the woman rushed away. He gave Norrington a sideway glance. The man he knew could fit in just about anywhere. The posh attitude told him that the man beside him should have been born into a better situation. He sipped at his brandy.

"So…" Norrington started in, once the bar maid had placed their drinks on the dirty table and walked away, "are you going to tell me what you're doing here?" He gave the younger man a dirty look. "Really? It's a damn hurricane outside, and you wonder why I've sought refuge." Norrington stared at him for a moment, those piercing green eyes searing at his soul. "Why here." It wasn't a question, and the set to the other's mouth told him an answer will be given. "This is the first spit of land that my men called out."

He watched as Norrington tossed back his snifter of brandy, listened to the squeal of the chair's feet against the ground as the other stood. He pulled his pistol quickly, cocking back the hammer as he pointed it at Norrington's chest. "Ah ah ah…not so fast. Sit down." Slowly Norrington sat back down. He smirked. "Did you really think I would let you go? Why Captain Norrington, I've been chasing you for weeks now. And here you are…on the same island in the same storm. However did I get so lucky?"

Norrington gave him a slight glower, "Well, the least you could do is buy me a drink Commodore." He frowned, but waved the bar maid back over. The wench automatically brought the bottle with her, setting it down with a heavy thump on the table. He dropped the silver coins into her outstretched palm, and once she left, he poured Norrington a drink.

His gaze strayed to the man beside him, watching as an elegant hand cradled the snifter, bringing the glass rim to that prim mouth. The amber liquid rush up to brush against those soft pink lips. He looked away and gulped at his own brandy. Putting his snifter back on the table, he ran the back of his hand against his mouth, and poured another drink.

Outside the storm kept raging, but inside it was like time had stopped. He watched his crew intermingle with the seedy patrons of the bar. And he sipped his drink. Outside, the moon had drawn dangerously close to the horizon, but he couldn't be bothered with sleep.

And before he knew it, the bottle of brandy was empty, and he could feel it as it weighted down his eyelids and pulled heavy at his empty stomach. His limbs felt weighted, as if by lead, and he glanced over at Norrington to see if the younger man fared better. The pirate gave him an easy, beguiling smile, and clumsily he got to his feet. "C'mon, I'm not lettin' you outta my sight."

With that smile firmly in place, Norrington got to his feet far easier and strode away in front of him. For a moment, the heady liquor turned his attention to the pirate's lean body, and he could feel lust curl in his stomach. Shaking his head, he followed Norrington up the stairs and to the dirty room the pirate had procured. Carefully, he shut and latched the door behind him, and when he turned around, his stomach flopped at the sight of Norrington sprawled on the bed.

Slowly, the younger rose up on his elbows and pinned him with a near sultry gaze from those green eyes. His mouth ran dry. "There's only one bed," came that dry voice, an elegant eyebrow arching over a deep green eye. He nodded, "Yes, I can see that." Norrington inched over just barely and patted the bed beside him. "That's alright, we can share."

His feet moved without a command from his brain until his thighs pressed hard into the mattress, and he stared down at the man in front of him, sprawled easily on the bed. "If that's alright with you, of course Commodore. Never know how you stuffy naval types take…situations such as these." And then Norrington winked at him. It was a brash motion from the younger man, accompanying a wide smirk, and it all came together to result in a blush raging across his cheeks.

He forced his lips to twist into a smile. "Oh, of course." Slowly, he crawled onto the bed next to Norrington, suddenly painfully aware of the other man. He could smell the lingering scent of the ocean that was seemingly embedded in Norrington's very pores, the scent of the rain and elusive beaches.

Turning his head, he looked at Norrington, only to find those deep green eyes staring back. It was like staring into the depths of an ocean wave. His breath hitched just a bit. "Too close Commodore?" He managed a smile, "No. We're perfectly alright." An elegant eyebrow once again lifted over a deep green eye. "Oh?"

He barely felt the movement before Norrington was on top of him, the younger man's longer form effectively pinning him to the bed. A forearm rested on either side of his head, keeping the young captain balanced above him, and he stared up into those damnable green eyes. "Still alright?" He didn't know what kind of game Norrington was playing, but damned if he was going to lose.

His attention was broken from the look Norrington was giving him as the wind banged the shutters hard against the window, tearing them open, and letting the storm inside. And then Norrington's lips crashed down hard on his. His breath disappeared from his lungs, and he knew he was lost.

Lust uncoiled in his stomach and reached throughout his body, pushing further and further with every beat of his heart.

Suddenly, he became aware of the fistful of soft, dark hair he held onto, keeping Norrington's lips smashed against his as they breathed through each other. His other hand tugged at the younger's shirt, tearing buttons from cloth and ran his hand hungrily over the creamy flesh.

Norrington nipped at his bottom lip, and he tasted blood as it leeched into the kiss. And then the pirate pulled back, seemingly taking all his sensibility with him. He became aware of the warm, Caribbean rain pattering in through the opened window, soaking the floor and the outermost edge of the bed. He lifted his gaze again, and was taken in. Those green eyes had darkened substantially, and his breath dried up in his lungs.

He watched as Norrington lifted off him and struggled out of his torn shirt, the moonlight catching on raindrops as they chased one another across that pale skin. Slowly, he ran his roughened palms over that skin, reveling in the silkiness and the color difference. "How do you stay so pale?" Norrington leered down at him before ripping his shirt open as well. He felt the fabric give and tear, heard the buttons disappear to all the corners of the room. "A secret of the sea, Commodore."

And then those lips were on his again, that pale chest pressing tight against his. He could feel the rain biting at his side, but slid his hands down Norrington's back, his hands landing on the younger's tight arse. He dragged the captain tight against him, locking their hips together.

He smirked against Norrington's lips as he felt the younger tug his hands away from his ass and stretch them over his head. Automatically, he curled his fingers around the bars of the headboard. Norrington held him there though, his soft lips traveling down his neck.

A groan was trapped somewhere in his chest, curling near the base of his throat. He tilted his head back, canted his hips against Norrington's. Finally, the groan crept sullenly from his lips, whispering into the room. He felt Norrington chuckle against his throat, and then he felt the chilly metal. Heard it click. And then Norrington drew away from him, smirking down at him. He jerked his hands hard, his fingers giving up the bars of the headboard to grasp the chain connecting the manacles together.

"You'll understand why I can't stay," Norrington said softly as he sat on the edge of the bed, drawing random patterns on his thigh. "I'm sure you'll find me though, Commodore Sparrow. You're fairly competent at that." He set his jaw, tugged again at the manacles, feeling the bars of the headboard give just a little.

Slowly, Norrington pressed a surprisingly tender kiss to his lips, stilling his movements, and he tried so hard not to give all of himself over in that one kiss. But he failed. As he watched Norrington stride toward the window, the rain rushing down his frame, his heart lurched. "Don't leave me like this Norrington." The younger man looked back at him, an easy smile on those sinful lips. "But where's the fun in the chase if you're just one step behind me?"

And then the young pirate was disappearing out the window, the storm seemingly swallowing him whole. He yanked hard on the manacles, jerking and twisting and rolling in an attempt to be free. He could feel the old wood cracking under the pressure of the chain, and with one last jerk, he came free. He staggered to his feet and rushed to the windowsill.

Looking out into the storm, he saw nothing but rain. It pelted hard against his face, neck, and chest. The chill of the rain chasing away any lingering heat left from Norrington. But he still scanned the street, searching for just a glimpse of that broad, pale back, before he gave up and ducked back inside.

He struggled with the shutters, finally managing to close them. And he slid to the floor. He looked down at his manacled hands, the chain glinting lackluster in the moonlight. He made a statement to the empty room, as the storm raged outside, and the air still held the lingering scent of rain and Norrington.

"Next time Captain, it'll be you who's chained to the bed."


End file.
